


A Day in the Life of Emrys

by Phoenix_Rose



Series: A (Marginally Secret) Sorcerer on Her Majesty’s (Marginally Secret) Service  …Plus a prat of a Field Agent (Prince) [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Arthur Being an Asshole, But He makes Up For It, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Merthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Rose/pseuds/Phoenix_Rose
Summary: Officially, Merlin Myrddin has been working for Camelot Shipping for a while now.In truth, Merlin Myrddin has been working for the Camelot branch of Her Majesty’s Service for a while now, though neither you nor he nor anyone should probably mention that aloud.An even more unmentionable fact is that Merlin Myrddin barely ever does the job he’s paid to do, usually because he’s running around using his (mostly secret) magic to keep Agent Arthur Pendragon alive.  Occasionally, however, things go right, and he actually gets to have a normal day, doing a normal job, as part of his normal life.Well, as normal as it can get when normal means ‘supervise a secret mission whilst your secret boyfriend tries to get on your nerves, and then save your boss' life'.





	A Day in the Life of Emrys

* * *

 

 

Name: _MYRDDIN, Merlin_

Codename ~~(name on people’s/Arthur’s phone)~~ : _EMRYS_

Profession: _Technician and Handler; MI6, Camelot branch_ _  
_~~_Sorcerer_~~

 

_ Notes from Agent Pendragon _

_ Myrddin has demonstrated some good planning skills and talent behind computer screens.  He displays great bravery in the field.  Unfortunately, he has some problems with following instructions. _

~~_ He also forgets that he’s not supposed to spend the night. _ ~~

~~_ And that I shouldn’t let him. _ ~~

 

Merlin woke with a small yawn, blinking his bleary eyes against the light coming in through Arthur’s curtains.  He poked at Arthur’s arm, which was currently wrapped firmly around his waist and preventing him from moving even an inch further away, and received nothing but an irritated noise.  Huffing a laugh, he shuffled back into the warm embrace and considered going back to sleep.  Until he remembered something rather important.

“Hell,” he murmured, bolting upright, intending to quietly fetch his phone and begin damage control.  Apparently, he wasn’t quiet enough because Arthur woke enough to poke him sharply in the centre of his back and chuckle, 

“Was it really that bad?”

Merlin rolled his eyes at him, smiling, “no.  It’s just,” he flopped back onto the bed, deciding to deal with his problems later, like the responsible adult he definitely was, “Gaius was expecting me back last night.  Not great for the whole keeping-it-a-secret plan.”

“You fell asleep on the sofa after working very hard and I couldn’t guess your phone password,” Arthur told him.  “Problem solved.  Don’t worry about it.”  Merlin smiled in relief, though he was slightly concerned when Arthur’s blue eyes travelled down his neck as a smirk grew.  “Worry about that instead,” Arthur said, highly amused and pointing at noticeable hickey.  Merlin looked at himself in the mirror on the bedroom wall.

“ _ Arthur _ !”

 

Merlin decided that it would be a good idea to arrive at work late but with enough evidence against him sleeping with Arthur Pendragon - he enjoyed life, most of the time, and it would be a shame for it to be ended early by Gaius (for the foolishness) and Uther (for besmirching his son).  That was why he was dropped home to dress and grab his bags, and why he arrived for work separately to Arthur from the train.

He hoped no one picked up on the fact that his top button was fastened.

It was a bit of a miracle that Gaius bought the agreed cover story.  Merlin couldn’t remember the last time his lying had gone so well.

(As it turned out, Gaius hadn’t believed him.  But, luckily for his nephew, he’d assumed that the lie was covering a lack of work being done and perhaps some drinking and decided not to question it.)

 

It was when Morgana had dropped around for her first chat of the day when a familiar voice rang over the tannoy; “Agent Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Myrddin, report to Uther’s office immediately.”

That in itself wasn’t unusual, but Merlin couldn’t help the flutter of panic that accompanied the idea that they could have been caught.  It wasn’t like they  _ advertised _ their activities, but they weren’t great at subtlety.  Both of them had come in to work with marks over the last month, and that one time when they came in together after the lunch hour…  He swallowed his nerves swiftly (Uther couldn’t have found out), though it was apparently not swift enough.

“Don’t worry,” Morgana laughed, patting his shoulder, “he’s started to hate you a little less than he used to.  He hasn’t ranted to Arthur about your incompetence in days!”

He raised an eyebrow at her; that was the first he’d heard about rants.

 

“This,” Uther announced, pausing for maximum drama (and to allow the picture to appear on the screen), “is Edwin Muirden.”

Merlin studied the picture intently.  Edwin Muirden stared out at them, his hunched form covered by a rough grey cloak and a large medallion hanging from his neck.  A fringe of dirty blond hair poked out from under the ragged hood and fell over his forehead.  Merlin winced slightly as he looked upon the mass of puckered scarring that encompassed the left side of Edwin’s face, half closing one of his eyes and reaching down to his collar; it looked like it had been (or was still) painful.

“He is a sorcerer, suspected of causing illness amongst the general populace in order to ‘cure’ them with an elixir he claims is good for all ills.  He causes suffering for profit.”

The pair nodded at Uther, who looked evenly at them, “you are to go to his home, find evidence of his misdeeds, and arrest him.”

“Arrest him, father?”

“He may have allies, contacts.  He will be  _ convinced  _ to aid our cause.”

Merlin shuddered; he didn’t envy Edwin.  Nodding as he and Arthur were dismissed, he tried to banish images of what they had condemned Edwin to from his mind.

_ Iron handcuffs, sleep deprivation, no food- _

“You alright?” Arthur asked concernedly.  Merlin nodded shakily.

 

Set up in his little soundproof room that Gaius procured after the first mission (he couldn’t stand the swearing and arguing), Merlin focussed his attention on testing Arthur’s bodycam, seeing how he wouldn’t have access to CCTV in Edwin’s home.

“We nearly ready, Merlin?”  Arthur asked impatiently, making the visuals shake as he rocked back and forwards on his heels.

“Nearly, just hold still… there.”  Merlin grinned triumphantly, “just don’t let anything cover your button and we’ll be good.”

“Great.”   Arthur set off at a run and Merlin settled into his spinny-chair, twirling around a few times like the mature, professional handler he clearly was and then sitting to watch Arthur work.

“Just remember,” he said as an afterthought, “I can’t really help with the escape routes in the house.  I have the basic plans, but he’s a sorcerer.”

“So?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “he might have changed it.”

“Could you do that?”

“Dunno.  Never tried.”  He didn’t think Gaius would be impressed if he accidentally ruined the house with magic.  The insurance didn’t cover it

 

Arthur pounded on the peeling front door, “Camelot Agent!  Open up!”  There was no answer, so he forced his way in.

“Does anyone ever open the door to you?”

Arthur hesitated a moment, “I think one might have let Leon in.  But he also might have been pulling my leg.”

That made sense.  Leon was the most responsible knight but he was also the eldest, and as the eldest he acted like Arthur’s older brother, mixing stories of true heroism with tales taller than the Shard.  Arthur took great pains in trying to tell the two apart (though he’d never admit it.  Just as he’d never admit that it annoyed him when Merlin was so much better in guessing whether it was true or not than he was).  Merlin reclined in his seat as Arthur walked around the living room, “there’s this room, a dining room, kitchen, and the hall on this floor.  Two bedrooms and a bathroom above.  No attic, but there is a basement.”

“Where do you think he’d keep it all?”

“Huh?”

Arthur rephrased, “where do you keep your magic stuff.”

“I don’t have any,” Merlin lied, smirking as Arthur made noises of false agreement, “but if I did I’d keep the book under the loose floorboard beneath my bed, with the staff wrapped in cloth beside it.”

“You have a staff?”

“I  _ would _ .”

“Right, of course.”  Arthur continued his search, muttering, “show off.”  The show-off chuckled.

 

Edwin Muirden was a tad smarter than Merlin.  He didn’t keep his magic equipment in the house, but in the rickety, rotting wooden shed in his yellowing garden.  Still, they found it, and Arthur broke in with ease, using his smartphone as a torch.

“See anything?” he asked Merlin.

“No.  Wait - what’s that on the table?”

Arthur picked up the item in question - an ornate oak box - and held it level with his button camera.  He opened it slowly.

 

“That’s disgusting,” Merlin decided, watching the thousands of beetles lying still over the blue velvet lining.  Arthur agreed, hastily shutting it.  “Best bring it back with you,” Merlin told him, grinning slightly at the answering groan, “they’re the only thing there, so that must be how he does it.  They must be magical; me and Gaius can take a look at them.”

“Alright,” grimaced Arthur, holding it as far from himself and his pristine suit as he could.  Merlin knew he must be scowling at the thought of keeping them in his precious car (though Merlin wasn’t sure how it could be precious when he spent so many of his missions with it being shot at).

 

“What now?” Merlin asked.

“Now,” Arthur said with a peculiar smugness in his tone, “we wait for Edwin to return.”  Merlin could practically  _ hear  _ the smirk as he announced, “stakeout!”

“Stakeout?” he repeated weakly, his grin fading as he swallowed nervously.  “Gods, Arthur, if you’re planning to do what you did last time… don’t.”  There was silence and Merlin groaned, “seriously.  Morgana said she was gonna pop in with hot chocolate.  The last thing I need is…  _ that _ .”

“I’m sure I don’t know  _ what _ you’re talking about,” Arthur said innocently.  His handler decided that the next time he saw him he was going to smack the smugness right off his face.

 

“...I bet you’re imagining it right now, aren’t you?  How it feels to have me-”

“Stop!”  Merlin choked out.  It was true, of course; the overactive imagination which had got him this job, and provided him with the ideas for so many weapons and codes, was now the reason he was flushing a deep red (Pendragon red, he reckoned, like the top of Arthur’s pants that were just visible over the waist of his jeans when he lifted his arms and his shirt came up too, and - and he had to stop thinking of that) all the way from his cheeks, past his adam’s apple, which bobbed visibly with the swallow he was forced to take, and probably onto his chest.

“Arthur,” he hissed, “Morgana is going to come in, any moment now.”

Arthur’s laugh sounded in his ear and Merlin cursed him, and all the ways in which his body had betrayed him.  Including his voice that was nowhere near as steady as he meant it to be when he tried to speak; he abandoned the attempt almost immediately.  This was the special version of torture that Arthur had decided to entertain himself with over the past month - rather than annoying Merlin to death over the comms, he sought to embarrass him to death, making a game out of leaving him as hot and bothered as possible for when the next visitor popped in.  It was cruel and despicable and completely made up for by the fact that Arthur made good on any and all promises he made.

 

Still, that was a rather insignificant seeming fact when people like Gaius came in (gods, that had been bloody close to becoming the most embarrassing moment in his life,  _ ever _ ), and it still seemed insignificant when Morgana’s worried voice came from the doorway, “alright there, Merlin?”

He swore inwardly - he hadn’t even heard her come in - raised his head and shifted in his seat.  “Yeah, yeah… absolutely fine,” he said as she placed his drink next to him.  He smiled unconvincingly at her, uncomfortably aware that his face was very much on fire.  Arthur’s voice started again in his ear and he ripped out the earpiece with alarming ferocity.  Morgana looked nervously at him.  “Just Arthur being an arse,” he told her, his voice not quite as firm as he would have liked, but better than he’d expected.  She looked dubious, promised to sort him out for him, nodded when Merlin told her not to (“it’s not that bad, really,”), and left with a final perturbed glance back at him.

 

Merlin replaced his earpiece, catching the tail-end of something that was definitely  _ not  _ suitable for when Morgana was nearby, and glared at his screen, “I hate you, Pendragon.  I really hate you.”

“Really?”  There was an innocent questioning tone in Arthur’s voice, and Merlin wanted either to punch him or kiss him or both - he’d decide when he saw him later.  (It was probably going to be both.)  “If you hate me,” he went on, “does that mean you don’t want me to-”

Merlin groaned and placed his head back on the desk with a resounding thunk, an uncomfortable heat in his face and groin as Arthur began listing off all the things he was going to do to Merlin later that night.  One day he was going to get him back for this.  Eventually.

 

Edwin Muirden,  _ damn  _ him, took a whole hour to get home.  Merlin had decided that he was definitely going to smack Arthur when he returned, and tell him to get his mind out of the gutter.  Still, he couldn’t help by grin proudly (alright, Gwen, he  _ was  _ proud of Pendragon) as he watched Arthur arrest Edwin without coming to blows.

_ Later, he’d realise that that should have been a warning. _

 

Taking the time Arthur was driving back to compose himself, Merlin was ready to greet him at the door and go with him to Gaius whilst Edwin was escorted to Uther for initial questioning.  Arthur handed Gaius the box; he peered at them curiously.

“Elanthia beetles.”

“Magical?” Merlin asked, already guessing the answer.

“Yes.  They can be enchanted to enter the brain, feed on it until they devour the person’s very soul.”

“Thank god these are dead,” Arthur breathed, looking at them with ill-masked nerves.  

Gaius nodded and passed the box to Merlin, who’d held out his hands for it; he didn’t trust his luck enough to believe that it was that simple.  He looked all over the box until he found an inscription on the lid, “bebeode þe arisan ealdu.”  The bugs burst to life, writhing and crawling over each other.  Merlin slammed the box closed with a small yelp, looking nervously beside him.  “Arthur… did you check if Edwin had any of the bugs on him?”

Arthur paled.

 

They could hear Edwin talking even outside the chamber, his silky voice washing over them like a deceptively soothing enchantment, “sir.  Sir,” he said quietly, “It seems the spell has taken hold.  Your body is now paralysed.  Now, open your eyes, sir.  I want my face to be the last face you ever see.  You took my childhood from me.  And now finally, I take my parents’ revenge.  Within a few hours, the beetle will eat into your brain.  And you will suffer, as they suffered.  And I long to hear you scream, as they screamed the night you gave the order for the interrogation to begin.  With your death, magic will return to Britain.  Bebeode þe arisan ealdu.” 

Merlin peeked through a crack and watched the bug crawl into the head of Camelot’s ear.

“Goodbye, Uther Pendragon.”

He looked desperately to his companions - Gaius moved him gently aside.  “Wait here.  I knew Edwin’s parents once, in the Old Days.  Perhaps I can talk to him.”

 

Merlin and Arthur gave Gaius a minute of anxious silence alone in the room.

“Right,” Merlin said finally, unable to allow his uncle to face a murderous sorcerer alone for more than the 63 seconds he’d been allowed, “you wait here, I’ll check on things.”  He opened the door quietly, poking his head in.  He blinked - things had gone wrong even faster than they tended to do for him.  He looked back at Arthur, “give me a minute.”  He slipped in, ignoring Arthur’s complaint about  _ him  _ going in unprepared.

 

“This is talking?” Merlin demanded incredulously, effectively taking Edwin’s attention away from Gaius, who was currently encircled by flames.  His uncle glared at him, knowing that he was putting himself in danger, but Merlin was already glaring at the fraudulent physician.

“Release him!”

“And who are you to make such demands, boy?”

“Merlin Myrddin.  His nephew.”

Edwin laughed and, with a flick of his wrist and a flash of his eyes, sent a decorative sword from the wall straight at Merlin’s head.  It took quite a bit of effort to stop it in its tracks.  Edwin stared, eyes bulging in his moment of shock, before he went back on the attack, “swilte, Merlin.”

Sweat beaded on Merlin’s forehead, slipping into his shimmering eyes as he fought back Edwin’s wave of magic.  Slowly but surely it was diminishing in power, and slowly but surely the fear in Edwin's eyes was growing.  When Merlin succeeded and the man was going backwards, Merlin took no time in sending the sword back at him.

He knew he was dead when the flames around Gaius dispersed.

“Are you ok?” he asked shakily, avoiding looking behind him  (after all his time watching Arthur, he still didn't cope well with the sight of death, especially when it was his fault).

“Yes.  Thank you, Merlin.”

 

The young warlock looked towards the closed door, and then to their head lying prone upon the floor.  His chest - thank the gods - was still moving, though it was feeble and slowing all the time.  Merlin exchanged an anxious look with Gaius and they dashed over.  The old physician lifted the head of the man who was, despite all, his friend and felt his forehead for fever.

“How do we get the beetle out before it kills him?” he asked, glad Arthur wasn’t there to see the state his father was in.

“It can only be magic.”

“We can’t use magic on Uther,” Merlin said, aghast.  “He’d kill us!”

“There are times where it is necessary.  It is your right.”

Merlin ran a hand over his face.  Uther would kill them for using magic, and he’d probably kill them an extra time for daring to use it on  _ him _ , and maybe once more for good measure because they worked in Camelot whilst they ‘betrayed’ him.  But Gaius was right - sometimes it was necessary.  A thought hit him, one that rendered both arguments moot; “I don’t know how.”

“If you don’t, he’ll die.”

Damn it.  He couldn’t let a man die - even a man like Uther - if there was a chance he could save them.  Still, he was going to scowl and grump as he did it.  He placed his hands over Uther’s ears, “bebeode þe arisan ealdu.  Áblinnen.”

“What’s happening?”

Merlin pulled his hands away, the paralysed bug lying in his palm with a few smatterings of Uther’s blood staining it’s black wings.  He sighed in relief (not least because Uther was still asleep) and flashed a grin to Gaius.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a genius?” Gaius asked, slightly awed.

“You certainly haven’t,” he laughed.

Merlin summoned Arthur and the cleaners (a group of eight men and women with stomachs of iron) whilst Gaius and some others bore Uther to the medical bay.  No doubt he would be able to explain what had happened, why his suspect was lying dead on the floor rather than sitting in his interrogation room, and smooth over how he’d been fixed ‘without magic’ in a few, non-false sounding sentences.

 

And Merlin?  Merlin thoroughly enjoyed smacking Arthur, scolding for having such a dirty mind, and excitedly telling him that Gaius had actually called him a genius.  

 

_ “Are you sure?”  Arthur looked at him dubiously, “I don’t think anyone in their right mind could call you a genius.”  He’d got another smack for that. _

 

Still, he couldn’t be that much of an idiot, because he remembered to tell Gaius he was planning to stay with Arthur that night. 

 

_ “Arthur’s invited me over to celebrate no one being dead,” he grinned. _

_ “And you’re planning to drink?  I assume you’ll be in no state to return home.” _

_ Merlin shrugged sheepishly - he didn’t plan on drink or returning home ‘till the next morning, but Gaius didn’t need to know about that. _

 

He was in such a good mood that he even forgave Arthur for the comms incident.  Eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> Tada! I'm not sure about the smutty-ish bit (it's me trying it out to maybe include stuff like it later on), so if you've any advice let me know and I'll improve it :)


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